Flashback
by Ciel Noir
Summary: Inspired by the 'Flashback' scenario from Resident Evil Outbreak. Alyssa Ashcroft makes the most difficult decision in her life, and as she remembers the consequences of her actions she finds a way to keep an old promise.
1. July 4th, 1996

Journalists often have to report on grim events; robberies, political scandals, traffic accidents. These stories are saddening, sometimes even distressing. But it's not often that the journalist is the victim of the story.

Next month it will be two years exactly since I escaped Raccoon City minutes before it was blasted into oblivion by the US government. I was one of just a handful of survivors from a population of 100,000, many of which were undoubtedly still alive when the bombs hit. Not long after, the evidence I managed to collect, along with my testimony and that of Yoko Suzuki's, helped shut down the Umbrella Corporation for good. I'm not ashamed to say I'm a strong believer in redemption, and helping save the world from an evil conglomerate played a major part in helping me recover from the ordeal.

There is, however, one more story that needs to be told before I can put the whole thing to rest. The Raccoon City incident awakened something in me which otherwise may well have stayed buried in the pit of my mind forever. Two years before the murders in the forest, now known to be the start of the outbreak, I experienced something so terrible it sent me into shock, and the memory fell inside the vault we call subconsciousness. For two years, I was oblivious to what had happened. That was until I experienced the same horror again, and the memories started coming back to me.

* * *

July 4th, 1996

Despite its small size, the fourth of July celebrations in Raccoon City were always spectacular. There's something about national holidays in small towns that makes you glad to be there, to be part of the community. Victory Lake, always the site of the festivities, was without a doubt the city's most popular tourist trap: an oasis of trees and water in an isolated town.

Independence Day fell on a Thursday, and a big pre-weekend 'town picnic' was organised at the lake. The city baked that day, the citizens escaping the heat of the town early to set up around the snack stands and event tents that had been put up before dawn. The entire team at my paper, the _Raccoon Today_, were strictly told to arrive before noon. In my mind, it was going to be one of those bullshit quasi-fun work days, where your boss drinks too much and thinks telling lame jokes is going to make you see him as normal, rather than the hard-ass he is every day at the office.

I was one of the later ones, as usual, pulling my car up to the lake's perimeter at ten to twelve. I remember regretting what I'd chosen to wear that day as soon as I stepped out into the sun, the heat waves visible as I looked out across the tree-lined path leading down to the water. Capris and a T-shirt – I should have put on some damn hot pants. As I pushed through the groups on the path and reached the lake, I was startled by the sheer number of people in the area. Great packs of families were sat by the water, groups merging into each other as neighbours noticed each other and moved through the crowd to meet. A huge water gun battle was underway between a gang of children, who ran across the path in front of me, screaming wildly as they chased and shot at each other.

As work friends went, I had very few. Basically there were two guys I really got on with: Jacob, our sports editor, and Kurt, a fellow junior reporter. Even now most of my friends are guys – I don't have time for most other women. Jacob was a very intelligent man, brilliant at what he did and a real hoot on nights out. But work-wise we had little to talk about, so Kurt was usually the one I'd end up chatting with in the office. Neither of us liked hanging around the office and slogging through information on the computer, both preferring to quickly get what we needed and head out into the field. You could say we both preferred hands-on research.

Kurt noticed me as I approached the group, all of whom were standing in the shade of the stage and chatting excitedly. The collective mood was strikingly relaxed, no one thinking about work yet as they caught up with colleagues they seldom saw. Kurt walked towards me, not dressed in a suit for the first time I could remember. He was wearing a polo shirt with tailored shorts and polished loafers, looking very preppy with his short gelled hair.

"Always the last," he said, arriving in front of me.

"Hey stranger. I'm never early, you always just end up waiting for someone else," I said.

Kurt grinned, his shoulders bouncing as he laughed his usual weird silent laugh.

"How have you been? We've all missed you," I said, my body thanking me as I stepped into the shade.

"Yeah, I've been a little busy," he said.

"Busy? You haven't published an article in almost two weeks."

"Mmm," he said, smiling cheekily. "It's a long story."

"Well, you'll have to tell me all about it. Hopefully we won't be stuck covering this shit all day."

Tony noticed me then and walked over.

"Alyssa! I didn't see you. Have you been here long?"

"No sir, I've been here for twenty minutes," I replied.

Tony furrowed his brow, staring at me from behind his huge glasses.

"Oh, sorry," he said. "I've been so busy coordinating with the event staff…The Mayor is due to arrive soon."

A teenager pushed through the group and appeared behind Tony. He was sweating under his baseball cap and wearing a blue T-shirt with "_Victory Lake_" written on it.

"Mr Lewis? My boss just arrived."

"Oh," Tony said, turning his big neck awkwardly. "I'll be right there."

Tony turned back to us and sighed.

"Back to the fray. I'll talk to you in a little while."

The afternoon wasn't as crap as I imagined it would be. I talked to Kurt for a while, and managed to pull Jacob away from Donna long enough to catch up with him. Donna was an admin assistant, at least forty but a beautiful woman with olive skin and an athletic build. He'd asked me my advice on how to ask her out at least fifty times over the past few months. I'd always said to approach her directly and just say it, but he'd yet to do anything. And he never did ask her out. She moved to Denver a year later, lucky her. I last saw Jacob the day of the outbreak in '98, and he was presumed dead in the riot at Warren Stadium which was the start of the disaster that night.

At 12:30 the Mayor appeared onstage, standing at the podium and beginning his speech. His daughter stood beside him, looking virginal with her wavy blonde hair and long white dress.

"It's days like this that remind us of the importance of unity. Not just as Americans, but as a community. Seeing so many of you gathered here today only reinforces my conviction that this is a town of greatness, built upon the foundation of togetherness…"

Several reporters, myself included, were filming the speech with camcorders. I had a good view so close to the platform.

"Independence can mean something different for everyone. For some, it means having the liberty to speak freely, for others, the choice of where to send your child to school. But we mustn't forget that independence is universally beneficial…"

Even in the relative coolness of the shade, sweat began running down my arms as I held the camera up. I shifted my legs to try and get more comfortable, trying not to shake too much. He continued in this vein for several minutes.

"…so when I see the people of my town, our town, all stood before me, I remember…I remember how lucky I am to live somewhere…somewhere that…

Mayor Warren's eyes closed as he fell backwards.

For a moment, all that was heard was a unified gasp that sounded out across the crowd. Then there was a riotous clamour as people shouted to each other and pushed forward to try and see what had happened. I almost dropped my camcorder as the man behind me jolted forward. I cursed, but the sound was inaudible above the crowd. By the time I whipped the camera back to film the stage, security guards had already reached the Mayor, pulling him up and dragging him away. His daughter followed them, her face hidden by her hair as she hurried off the stage.

Kurt said something next to me, but I didn't hear over the shouting. After a minute a woman wearing the blue staff shirt took the stage and spoke into the microphone.

"Mayor Warren is feeling unwell due to the heat and will not be returning today. He is being looked after in our medical tent."

The pack of reporters surrounding me practically screamed as they tried to be heard over the tumult. I managed to hear one say, "Is the Mayor well enough to keep running this city?"

I laughed and looked at Kurt. He was laughing silently with me.

"Don't you love it?" I heard him say.

* * *

As the afternoon sun lowered in the sky, the townsfolk began leaving the lake. There were still plenty of groups milling around as I headed back to my car. A good number of them were teenagers who sat in tight circles drinking alcohol, undoubtedly set to stay late into the night.

Personally, I'd had quite enough. After the drama with the Mayor, everyone in my team had skulked off alone to try and find out what they could. There would be a mad scramble to write the best article on the event, which without a doubt would make the front page tomorrow. After all, this story only had to compete with the town picnic and recycled articles on the state of our city's education system.

I fished through my purse and had my key in the car door when a hand touched my shoulder. I turned around to see a familiar face.

"Kurt, hi," I said.

"Leaving already?" he asked.

I crossed my arms and looked to the side, at the path leading down to the lake. Exhausted townsfolk, overexcited by the events of the day, were lying on the edge of the tree line, some sleeping. The air was unbearably humid and I couldn't wait to get into my car and drive home for a long cold shower.

"I was trying to get away incognito…You should leave, too. We're in competition," I said.

I looked back at Kurt, who was smiling widely at me, showing rows of flawless white teeth.

"I'm not writing anything tonight," he replied.

I stared at him, surprised.

"You're not even going to try? It's not like you to concede to a little rivalry," I said.

Kurt kept smiling, almost vibrating as he thought of how to word his next sentence.

"I can't keep it in, Alyssa. I'm working on something bigger than this. Hell, it's bigger than anything!"

Kurt was practically squealing. My mouth hung open, I wasn't used to seeing him so poorly composed.

"What are you talking about?"

"I shouldn't be telling you. Not that I don't trust you, but this is just so…exciting. Can you meet me later?"

My eyes widened and I almost laughed.

"What? No, Kurt. I'm gonna be lucky to get an hour's sleep tonight. You might not care about where your career is headed, but I sure do."

I didn't want to offend him, but I'd never known Kurt to be so passive with his work, and I had no idea what could be so important as to shrug off a story about a politician embarrassing himself publicly. It was journalistic gold.

"It's still early," Kurt continued. "I'm sure you're capable of writing something brilliant in a few hours." I looked back at him, shaking my head.

"This is important, Kurt. I have to do my best."

"Okay, then do your best and meet me tonight."

I looked at him. Like me, Kurt could be stubborn. But he usually knew when to back down, and this time he wasn't.

"Fine," I sighed. "But I'm not promising anything."

"Fantastic," he said. "Meet me at Jack's Bar, say nine o'clock?"

"Okay, but don't be disappointed if I'm not there."

Without another word, Kurt winked and turned around, walking across the darkening lawn to his own car.


	2. After Party

I pulled up to my favourite parking spot off Main Street just after nine. It was on a tiny stretch of road behind a big church, an overlooked patch of road where someone had forgotten to mark the curb. I called it my parking Bermuda triangle.

I stepped out of the car and breathed in the night air. When I'd left the house the sun was still setting, but it was completely dark now and people were beginning to re-emerge to continue their celebrations in town. I'd brought a jacket but left it in the car, this time satisfied with what I'd chosen to wear: a red cocktail dress with black stilettos, and nothing else.

The walk from Main Street to Jack's Bar took less than ten minutes. I hopped along the sidewalk, happier than I'd been in a long time. I'd swung by the office on the way to hand in my article, which had been written surprisingly quickly. Having the foresight to video the Mayor's speech gave me a big advantage over some of the others. There wasn't much to say on the event itself, but of course I voiced the speculation that had erupted around me at the time. Was Mayor Warren too old to carry on? He _had_ been in office since the 80s. My report wasn't too scathing, though. He was a much-loved man who ended up serving the city right up to its destruction two years later. I found out, through some miracle, that Mr Warren had managed to escape the city during the outbreak, although the details surrounding his escape were very unclear. He apparently sent his daughter to the RPD under the protection of Chief Irons. It turned out to be a mistake, and she didn't make it out with her father.

I opened the door to Jack's Bar to find it practically bursting with clientele. Jack's was a nice bar I'd only recently discovered. Traditional décor, friendly waiters and an excellent selection of wines made it very fitting to my tastes. The main room wasn't big, but it took me a moment to notice Kurt, who was sitting on a small table by the window, facing the door. He smiled at me as I caught his eye and made my way through the crowd. He'd managed to save me a place, with some skill, I imagined, as most of the bar's patrons were standing, and the queue to the bar was long.

I took a seat in front of him and starting fanning myself with my clutch purse, suddenly very hot in the crowded room.

"I bought you a glass of Merlot. Didn't think you'd be up for the queue," Kurt said.

I nodded and picked up my glass. I sniffed as I took a sip, my nose drinking in the fruity taste before my mouth did. I licked my lips as I put the glass back down and looked at Kurt.

"So what was so important you had to drag me away from the article of a lifetime?" I asked.

Kurt picked up the hint of sarcasm in my voice. I'd been trying to guess what he was working on all evening. I knew whatever it was, it would have to trump the Mayor story several times over for him to be so obsessed by it.

"Did you get the article written?" he asked.

"Yes. I'm pretty pleased with it. And I can just imagine all the others sitting over their computers right now pulling their hair out."

The thought please me. Kurt smiled, taking a sip of his whiskey and letting out a sigh of satisfaction as he put it down.

"I'm sure yours'll make the front page, Alyssa."

I stared at him blankly. I hoped the look communicated my impatience effectively. Apparently it did.

"Okay, so you want to know what I've been working on?" he asked.

I continued staring. When he didn't continue, I closed my eyes and said in the flattest tone possible, "What is so special that you've been working on it for two weeks?"

"How about the cover up of illegal testing by a major pharmaceutical company?"

I opened my eyes again. For the second time that day, my mouth swung open.

"What? Are you serious?"

Kurt smiled, delighted by my reaction.

"As serious as I've ever been, dear."

I kept staring at him. The peripheral noise in the bar seemed to die out as my attention focused on his words.

"Who is it? Which company?" I asked.

Kurt kept beaming, and realisation hit.

"Not _the_ corporation?" I asked.

When Kurt didn't answer, I sunk back in my chair. My gaze fell on the people moving around on the street outside as I processed what I'd just heard. I finally looked back at Kurt, still silent, and picked my glass, taking another big gulp. I put it down and looked around conspiratorially, leaning closer to his face.

"Are you telling me you've found something on Umbrella?"

Kurt leaned forward, our faces almost touching.

"Yes," he said.

I fell back into my chair.

"My God!" I said.

I'd practically shouted, but no one around me took any notice. The wall-mounted TV was tuned to the local news channel, cycling through images of the events at Victory Lake earlier. The music was loud, some wordless rock tune that blended in with the excited shouts and laughter of the crowded bar.

"What proof do you have? Where did you get it?" I asked.

The mood in the room, coupled with what I'd just heard, had me very excited. My journalistic instincts were on high alert. I was very curious indeed.

"It's a long story," he said.

"We've got all night," I said. I was becoming exasperated at his evasiveness.

Kurt took a sip of whiskey, managing not to wince as the sharp liquid fell down his throat. He looked at me, serious now, and started explaining.

"Have you ever heard of Nature's Cross Medical Centre?" he asked.

I thought for a moment. Raccoon City had only one major hospital, but there were numerous clinics dotted around the town.

"No," I said.

"Well, I wouldn't expect you to. It's a private facility in the wood around the Arklay Mountains. It was closed down three years ago."

"What happened there?"

I had to shout, which in normal circumstances would have been very stupid. But I was confident no one was listening.

"Umbrella was funding research at the clinic, _illegal_ research. They even operated under a fake subsidiary called 'Drugs, Inc'. Can you believe it?"

Actually, I barely could. From anyone else, I would have laughed this story off as hysteria. But I'd never known Kurt to be wrong. He wasn't the type to fabricate a story for popularity.

"And you have hard evidence?" I asked.

Kurt frowned, not an expression I saw often.

"Not yet," He said. "I received a letter from a doctor who used to work at the facility. He told me he was wracked by guilt, and he needed the world to know what had happened there. He gave me this."

Kurt took two pieces of folded paper from his pocket and put them on the table. I picked them up and opened them.

The first was a map of the area just north of Raccoon City. The forest and mountains were labelled, and paths were marked. Someone had drawn a red arrow on the map.

"What does this point to?" I asked.

"It's the location of the hospital."

I looked up sceptically.

"It's not on the map because Umbrella didn't want anyone to know it was there," Kurt explained.

"And how do you know it exists?" I asked.

"Look at the other sheet," Kurt said.

I opened the other sheet of paper. It was a letter, handwritten with no address at the top. I skimmed over the first few lines and read,

"_I was one of the doctors involved in the experiments there. The test drugs supplied by Umbrella were routinely administered to patients and results returned to the company_."

I put the letter down.

"Kurt, this isn't _evidence_! Plenty of people have reason to hate Umbrella. They're an international corporation, for God's sake."

Kurt let his head roll back, exasperated.

"This man knows a lot, Alyssa. Why would he make these things up?"

I gave him a hard look.

"Lots of reasons," I said. "Maybe he worked for Umbrella and they fired him. Maybe he wants to mess with you. I don't know."

"Unlikely," Kurt replied. "If he's lying, then I won't find anything, and Umbrella won't be touched."

"What is he claiming, exactly? Umbrella was working out of the hospital to save on taxes?"

"Read the damn letter, Alyssa."

I picked it up again and continued reading. A few lines down, another sentence caught my eye.

"_We were trading human lives for money_."

"What!" I exclaimed.

"Umbrella were conducting experiments on _human beings_, Alyssa!"

I looked up at Kurt, more astonished than ever.

"How can you possibly believe that? There's no way they could get away with it!"

Kurt slammed his hand down on the table. The celebrators still took no notice of our conversation.

"That's why he told me where the hospital is! He says there's concrete proof there – documents, drug samples. If I find this stuff I can expose the biggest corporational conspiracy in the history of the world."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. But it was at this point that I actually started believing that Kurt was serious about what he was saying.

"And if it's a trap?" I asked.

Kurt widened his eyes, apparently surprised at my lack of faith.

"Some stranger sends you a note saying to meet him in the woods and you go running? Not smart, Kurt."

"I'm not meeting anyone," he said. "He's just leading me to the proof."  
"Oh, so he's making you do his dirty work. That's alright, then."  
Kurt drew in a sharp breath.

"Look, I've made up my mind. I'm going tomorrow, and the day after I'll be back with a story that's gonna shake the Earth."

I was speechless, and gave Kurt a thoughtful look. They say hindsight is 20:20, but I can honestly tell you that at that moment something about the situation didn't sit well with me at all.

"In the years I've known you," I said, "you've never shown a lack of judgment. Ever. But you're pinning your hopes on something that might not exist."

"You're right," Kurt said, taking a cigarette from his jacket pocket and lighting it, "I do have very good judgment, and I know I'm onto something massive here."

"Then there's nothing I can do to stop you," I said. "But why are you telling me this?"  
"Insurance. I know this could be dangerous, so I need to tell someone what I'm doing. I trust you."  
We might have been best friends, but in the workplace we were sometimes rivals, too. If Kurt really thought he had the lead of a lifetime, he was trusting me massively by telling me this before his article was written.

"So you do realise how risky following this lead might be?" I asked.

"I may be determined, but I'm not stupid. I'll be breaking into public property, and I don't know if anyone else will be waiting for me."  
"Then don't do it!" I shouted.

The strength of my own voice surprised me. Someone finally stared at us as they made their way across the room. We waited for them to reach the bathroom before continuing.

"I've made up my mind, Alyssa. I'm leaving early so I'd better get home to bed."

Kurt put out his cigarette and stood up.

"I look forward to reading your sensational piece in the morning," he said.

Kurt made his way through the swarming crowd and reached the door when I shouted, "Call me tomorrow night!"

He didn't hear. A girl at the next table looked at me and laughed, probably thinking I was some desperate woman hoping my date would call again. I didn't care.

* * *

I arrived home twenty minutes later. My apartment building was completely silent, its inhabitants apparently still out celebrating. I lived in the eastern suburbs, favoured by the town's young professionals because of its relative proximity to the city proper. I closed the door to the apartment behind me and flicked on the light, the familiar surroundings suddenly making me feel desperately lonely. For once, I wanted someone here with me, someone I could talk to about what Kurt had told me.

This is the point at which I made my first big decision, one which would dramatically impact the events which would unfold tomorrow. I approached the telephone, my hand on the receiver as I decided whether or not to pick it up. Who could I call? It had to be someone at work, who would understand how important it was Kurt was stopped even if it meant sabotaging a potential lead. Jacob? No. Even if it ended up saving his life, Kurt would never forgive me for betraying such a secret to a fellow employee. So it had to be Tony. I could tell him what Kurt was planning and he could decide whether or not to let him do it. But wasn't that just delegating responsibility?

As I continued to balance the dilemma in my mind, the flashing light of my voicemail caught my eye and I hit the button to listen to it.

"_You have one new message._"

"_Hi, Alyssa. This is Tony. Good news, we're running your piece on the front of tomorrow's paper! This is fantastic work, Ms Ashcroft. I expect you'll be at the morning briefing? See you then_."

I backed away from the telephone and fell onto the couch, sinking into the sticky leather like an ice cube hitting lava.

"Damn," I said, my voice echoing in the empty room.

I sat for a full minute as I contemplated what this meant for me. All other thoughts left my mind, a smile gradually spreading across my face as I realised this was for real. This was the biggest story in a long time: a popular public figure embarrasses himself in our town and _I'm_ the one to tell everyone! At that moment, it was the biggest thing in my life.

I stood up and went to the window. I opened it with some effort, the wood apparently having swelled in the heat, and looked out over the city. To the west, spread out below, the dark towers of downtown rose into the sky, the lights in the street whirling below. I breathed in the air, letting it clear my mind and calm me down. After a few moments I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. In five minutes I was undressed and in bed, lying under a thin silk sheet. I switched off my bedside light and fell asleep quickly, the adrenaline in my body having worn off and given way to exhaustion. I slept deeply, not hearing the fireworks outside, and unaware that in not acting I had failed to make any decision at all in the fate of my friend.


	3. Cabin in the Woods

I woke up much later than I should have, lying in my black bedroom where time lost meaning. I'd forgotten to set my alarm, and rolled over to the clock to see it was 8:35. Very early for me, but I was expected at the office. At least fifteen of the twenty-five minutes I had would be spent driving there, so I had to squeeze showering, dressing, makeup and hair into very little time. More than being late I've always hated rushing – it throws the whole day out of whack. Still, I was out of the house in twenty minutes. A friend once called me trendily low maintenance. I think that was a compliment.

I could taste the heat as I stepped outside. I'd had to put on a suit – Tony was an alright guy when it came to it but he was pretty strict on the dress code at the office. So I was already sweating as I closed the car door and began my drive downtown. Traffic was worse than I'd thought, everyone returning to work after the holiday, and all heading in the same direction as me. I glanced at my in-car thermometer as I waited at a red light. 86 degrees, it told me in orange numerals. Damn, and it wasn't even noon yet.

Anita, the receptionist, was too busy looking for something on her desk to notice me as I walked past. Always a blessing, avoiding those daily small talks we have to stomach. I walked through the already busy corridors of the building, half expecting everyone to stop and stare, given what I considered my new fame in the town, and, particularly, at the paper. But no one seemed to notice me as I walked past them. Half relieved, half disappointed, I reached the door to the conference room, took a breath, and opened it.

Applause. I'd been caught completely off-guard, and stood gawking like an idiot. The twelve seats around the table were all taken, and many more people were standing, all clapping and looking at me. Of course most of them were faking their smiles, like failed Oscar nominees that have to applaud the winner for the cameras. After what felt like forever the clapping died down and Tony spoke from the far end of the table.

"I'm glad you came! Have you seen it yet?"

"I, uh…No, I haven't."  
I realised I was still standing in the open doorway looking stupid, so I cleared my throat and walked over to the table. Everyone had a copy of the day's paper, and someone next to me handed me theirs.

There it was, my article: "_Mayor Bowled Over by July 4__th__ Heatwave_". The photo wasn't mine. One of our photographers, Jenny, had taken a much better shot than any of the stills in my video. I looked up and caught her eye, and we acknowledged each other with a nod. I looked back down at the article to read it before I remembered something, my head darting back up and looking around the room.

"Where's Kurt?" I asked.

"Not here, again," Tony said. "Have you seen him? Does he still want a job here or what?"

I'd expected him not to be there, of course, but that didn't stop my heart sinking. I thought for a second about explaining his secret. But here, in front of almost everyone? That was unthinkable.

"I think he said he'd be in tonight," I said.

Tony grunted.

"He's a wild card, that one. You, on the other hand, are my new rising star."  
I felt like I was physically going to crumple into a pile with embarrassment when he said that. I didn't dare catch anyone else's eye, knowing how much they envied me at that moment.

I daydreamed through the rest of the briefing, which Tony wrapped up at ten o'clock. I headed out of the room the second we were let go, not wanting to hang around and be talked to by any of them. I raced down to my car, ignoring Anita as she shouted some inane compliment at me, and burst through the front door. I reached my car, closing the door and sitting with my hand on the ignition. I was breathing quickly, my forehead growing wet with sweat.

What was wrong with me? I should have been back in the office drinking in everyone's praise, genuine or not. The whole Kurt situation was driving me mad, of course. If this had been two or three years later, when everyone had cell phones, I wouldn't have hesitated to call him right then and there and make sure everything was alright. But my only option was to head home and try his land line.

The drive back was fast but uncomfortable, the thermometer now reading 88 degrees. I stared out the window as I cruised past Grover Park, seeing swarms of people sitting exhausted on the grass like flies swatted out of the air. I was soon in the glorious cool of the dark apartment, the large window wide open and letting in the occasional sound of a car lazily making its way through the quiet neighbourhood.

I went to the phone and dialled Kurt's number. I let it ring twenty times.

"Get an answering machine, moron," I said to the phone.

I hung up and looked around. There was nothing I could do, at least for today. I couldn't work, even though there was work to be done. I knew I needed something mindless to keep my hands busy, so after changing into shirts and a tee I went into my home office and started pulling boxes and folders off the ceiling-high shelves. The room was a complete mess in five minutes, and I busied myself with reorganising everything properly. I sifted through old articles, stopping occasionally as I came across one that I'd forgotten about. I smiled to myself as I remembered the untold stories surrounding each one: the long days spent researching and interviewing and the even longer nights spent writing them up. By the time everything was packed away again and I realised I was hungry, I was astonished to see it was 4 o'clock in the afternoon.

I tried the phone again. Twenty rings, nothing. I made a sandwich and grabbed a can of Coke before heading downstairs to the building's courtyard. It was still hot, the humid air making my fringe stick to my forehead as I looked out across the hill which led to the downtown area. But the luxury of being able to sit outside wearing so little was not to be wasted, and I savoured my solitude and the modest pleasure of my simple meal. I headed back upstairs, trying the phone again, and then slamming it down when there was no answer. My hand danced over the receiver as I considered calling Tony. Racked by indecision I eventually ambled around the house looking for something else to do. I went over to the closet, pulling out my fold-up bench press and working out until I was exhausted. After two cable horror movies I was ready for bed at nine.

* * *

I woke at dawn, having forgotten to draw the curtains the night before. My room looked unfamiliar in the sunlight, already bright just after 6AM. It had been a long time since I'd slept so long, my nocturnal pastimes and early meetings rarely allowing me the opportunity to get a good eight hours. In those days, still reasonably new to the paper, I'd tried very hard to make a good impression and always be present at the morning briefings. But as the excitement of the new job wore off over the next couple of years I would grow into a comfortable habit of working almost completely independently, rarely needing guidance from my boss.

I actually felt like I'd overslept, but I gradually managed to shake the feeling as I got ready, spending a good half hour in the shower and making a cooked breakfast. It was rare I had hours before I needed to leave, and I enjoyed moving at a leisurely pace for once. I was perhaps a little too relaxed, my eyes widening as I glimpsed the kitchen clock and saw it was 8:45. I hurried down to the car, the thin material of my skirt suit blowing against my legs as I walked across the courtyard. I turned the ignition and glimpsed the thermometer again: despite the wind, it was 95 degrees, and the figures were displayed in red now.

I hoped again that Anita wouldn't notice me, but I had no such luck today and had to talk to her as I waited for the elevator to arrive in the lobby.

"I really thought your piece was fantastic, Alyssa. Such a good read for a local paper. I mean, not that local papers aren't good! Of course most of what we write here is all such good stuff."  
"See you later, Anita."  
I stepped into the elevator, pondering people's incessant need to just talk, and what crap they came out with sometimes. I was late, and very conscious that this was the second time in a row. I couldn't slack off and ride on the wave of one success too much – people would make judgments, and judgments aren't good for people in the media industry. I was also thinking of Kurt as I walked up the hall to the conference room. Again, I hadn't had time to pick up the morning paper, but I was itching to see what his investigation had turned up. Because in all truth it wasn't that I hadn't believed Kurt wasn't on to something before, I was just frightened he was endangering himself in pursuing it. I walked in, and the table was three-quarters full. No Jacob today, and no Kurt.

I remember what I felt in that moment. It wasn't like my heart was sinking. More like it had suddenly grown three sizes and couldn't continue beating in the small space of my chest. It was panic.

"Alyssa, are you alright?" Tony asked.

I walked over to the table and picked up the newspaper sitting there. I glanced the front page, "_Child hospitalised by firework fights for life_".

"Has Kurt been in today?" I asked, staring at the page.

"No, and I was expecting him. Have you spoken to him?" Tony asked.

"No," I said.

I took a seat and decided not to act until the end of the briefing. It was only an hour, and the traffic _was_ bad today. Perhaps Kurt was on his way.

The hour passed and everyone stood to leave. Tony packed his briefcase and looked down, seeing I hadn't moved.

"Is everything alright, Alyssa?"

I stared at him, thinking how to phrase what I wanted to say. He stared back expectantly and then a phone rang on the cabinet behind him. He answered it and sighed, rubbing his eyes with one hand. He replied to the caller in an angered tone, launching into a long speech which I didn't care to continue hearing. I walked out of the room and headed for the elevator, still not sure what to do as I pushed open the building's front door and stepped into the burning sun.

I went to car and sat with my forehead on the steering wheel.

"What has happened to him?" I said aloud.

I sat up and started the car, driving around the block to a payphone on Main Street. I took a slip of paper from my pocket with Kurt's home number on it and dialled. I let it ring thirty times now, finally hanging up with a shuddering hand. I looked around, perhaps in the vain hope of finding someone who could help me. The street was already busy with Saturday shoppers, who were milling in and out of stores and sitting outside cafés drinking cold drinks under parasols. I went back to the car and turned on the air conditioning, sitting back and thinking of what to do.

I could go back to the office and tell Tony everything. He would tell me I was stupid for not telling him sooner, but after that it would be in his hands. He could call the cops, who would organise a search team and find out where Kurt was. But what if he was still there on account of an unexpected discovery? Maybe he had found so much evidence that he had had to camp out there while he went through everything, preparing what he found for his big article.

Unlikely? Perhaps. But I continued to feel that telling anybody else about what Kurt was doing would in some way be a betrayal. I was kicking myself for not forcing Kurt to make some contingency deal with me. Say, if he didn't come back by Saturday afternoon, I would call the cops. But we had made no such deal. He had promised to be back today with his story, but I had no way of knowing either way.

Unless I went to the forest to find him. "_Is that crazy_?" I wondered. I'd told him not to go, but he was a grown man and should take responsibility for his own actions. I wasn't exactly the type to put myself in danger for someone else, but the circumstances were very unusual. And, of course, I was curious. I don't think I could have done my job well if I wasn't very curious, and this was such a sensational story, if indeed it existed, that I couldn't help but be excited at the prospect of seeing this 'hospital of hell' Kurt had mentioned.

I opened the glove box and took out my city map book, flicking through the pages of the heavily worn index to find what I was looking for. I looked up the route to the part of the forest where the clinic supposedly was, something which I'd been sure to take a mental note of in the bar, just in case. Of course the clinic wasn't on the map but I remembered it was near a large suspension bridge over a ravine, which was marked. I put the book down on the passenger seat and sat still for a moment, debating whether or not to go home and change first. I decided I couldn't waste any more time, and ruining a suit by trekking through the forest was not my biggest concern right now.

I started up the street, the journey painfully slow at first as more people arrived downtown to make the most of their days off. As I moved further from the vicinity of Raccoon Mall, the traffic thinned to a bearable pace and eventually I was on the expressway running parallel to the Circular River, leading up to the Arklay Forest. The road stretched out in front of me into a horizon which seemed to draw no closer. I opened the window to let the air blast my face, closing my eyes for just a moment and trying to clear my mind.

It's fairly frightening, but the Arklay Forest still exists to this day. Being more than ten miles outside of the city, it wasn't destroyed in the bombing that the government ordered to contain the outbreak. The fallout from the missiles means the whole area surrounding it is probably a total dead zone now, but no one could say with any certainty that there aren't still creatures roaming the woods as I write this. I stopped the car at the perimeter of Victory Lake, unrecognisable now in its undisturbed quietness. I'd bought my Toyota Paseo a couple of months ago, and was now wishing I'd gone for a Jeep Cherokee. I would have to continue on foot, the lake being the last open area before the density of the forest began.

I hopped down to the water, the path opening in front of me to reveal the expanse of the lake. Most of the litter had obviously been cleared after the celebrations two days ago, but several remnants of the festivities, such as the stage, still stood like bruises on the scorched ground. I started moving around the perimeter of the lake, to the other end where the tree line stood at the natural gate to the woods. I took one final look behind me, my car just visible at the top of the path in the distance, and then started up the tree-flanked path to the forest.

I'd brought the map with me, but didn't have need of it just yet. I'd been told by teachers as a child I had a photographic memory, which is probably why I did so well learning lists of verbs in Spanish while the other kids struggled. The path to the bridge, in any case, was a fairly simple one, requiring only a couple of bends in the numerous forks that presented themselves in my way. The walk itself was tiring, however, as the path moved up steep banks and the occasional long artificial stairway to reach the top. I really started regretting my choice of clothes, and at one point wished I could just take my skirt off. But then I imagined bumping into, well, anyone, and thought twice.

At the top of a particularly steep bank I swung around and took a rest on the step. I was surprised at how high I'd climbed, the path dropping dramatically back down below me. I looked up but could only see patches of the sky, the path enclosed in a natural tunnel of skyscraping pine. I forced myself back onto my feet and walked for another couple of minutes when something caught my gaze. A piece of blue material was just visible hanging on a branch off the path. I approached and pulled at it, the branch resisting as if it wanted to hold onto it. Eventually the material was free and I was holding a denim jacket. Funny, who would have left their jacket there? I'm not a religious woman but I do occasionally find myself thanking God when unexpected and flukey things pop up for my convenience. I slipped the jacket on and found it fitted quite well. Definitely not my style but it would protect me somewhat from the sharp branches poking out from the forest walls. I was hot from the walk but the altitude and shade from the trees seemed to make the atmosphere cooler up here.

I carried on through the shielded path and after a few minutes I could hear water. I pulled my map out, tracing my finger up to the ravine and trying to estimate my location in relation to it. I stuffed it back into my pocket and ran up the path, taking the forks in the track as I remembered them before I finally reached the bridge.

The map hadn't warned me that the suspension bridge was little more than a rackety line of planks held together by rope, stretching at least twenty metres over a one-hundred-foot drop to the bottom of the ravine. I don't consider myself to have any irrational fears, but I am pretty terrified of heights – one reason I'd never taken a trip on an airplane and ever left the state before I was forced to so dramatically a few years later.

I pulled out the map again and looked up and down to see if there was another way over or around the ravine. The nearest path around it was, apparently, a few hundred metres away. Reminding myself I had already wasted a lot of time, I grabbed the side of the bridge and began walking across. I'll tell you, it's no cliché that it helps not to look down. I think it allows the mind to believe there's no danger. So I looked ahead to the end of the bridge, letting my eyes dupe my brain as I moved across. There was, mercifully, little wind up where I was, the forest surrounded instead by a dubious stillness disturbed only by the sound of the invisible insects all around.

I reached the end of the bridge, finally allowing myself to turn around, realising this wasn't a smart move as a hint of dread washed over me – just a taste of what I would have felt if I'd actually looked down as I'd been crossing. I shook my head and realised I'd slipped onto the ground, an instinctual movement to help me feel safe again. I carried on up the path, which winded as it had before in what felt like dozens of directions as I carried on moving away from the bridge. Another uncomfortable feeling set in as I walked, as I began to realise that I had little idea of where the clinic was from here. I knew it wasn't far from the bridge, at least it appeared so when I'd seen the map a couple of nights ago, albeit through shocked and wine-soaked eyes. I won't say I was about to give up, because I wouldn't have given up at that point, but I was certainly more than a little relieved when I saw a cabin sitting just a few metres from a bend in the path leading further north.


	4. Flashback

It was a wooden cabin, not big but clearly well built, and not looking out of place in the woods as a rest point or ranger's station, I thought. I walked up a couple of steps and knocked on the door. I waited for a second and then moved to the window, trying to see what was inside but unable to make anything out through the blinds. The door swung open and a face appeared from the shaded interior.

It was an old man, probably at least sixty, with a weathered white face and a fairly startled but not unfriendly expression.

"Yes?" he said, the word an elongated murmur.

"Oh, hello sir. I'm sorry to trouble you, are you a ranger?"

"A ranger…" he repeated, as if it was an alien word.

"Yes, a forest ranger?" I asked again.

"Oh, no, no, no. I live here," he replied.

My mouth opened in surprise and I took a quick look at the cabin before shutting it again.

"I see. Well, I'm sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you knew about an abandoned medical facility in the area. I was told that…"

I trailed off as I saw his expression change. I blinked and he was smiling again, and I was unsure I'd actually seen the perturbed expression he'd given me.

"The hospital, yes. But it's been closed for years, now. Why, are you…hurt?"

He gave me a look up and down, with the same smile on his face.

"No, I'm fine. It's just…I think someone I know might be there, and I'm worried about him. Do you know where it is?" I said, looking at him hard in the eyes to urge him to meet my gaze.

He caught my look and then stared back at me again.

"Yes, it's not far from here. I could take you there, if you like?"

"Oh, really? I knew I was close. If it's not too much trouble…"  
"Not at all."

The man put one finger up to indicate for me to wait and stepped back inside the cabin, the sound of his hands rustling through a bag audible from the doorway before he stepped out again.

"Not many people come by here anymore, but you can't trust them not to rob you these days, can you?" he said, closing the door and locking it with a key which he slipped into his pocket.

When I didn't respond he motioned for me to move down the path and followed at my side.

"My name is Al, by the way," he said.

"I'm Alyssa."

He was standing uncomfortably close as we moved, and I was thinking of a way to tactfully move away when he suddenly darted in front and began moving into a jog down the path. Surprised, I began jogging behind him. He was moving rapidly despite his age and, dressed as I was, I struggled to keep up.

"Hey!" I shouted.

Al disappeared behind a bend in the path, ten yards ahead of me, and when I reached it he was gone.

I stood completely stupefied, looking around and not hearing a thing. The path continued in a straight line into the distance before it curved again, so I assumed he must have darted into the bushes. But which direction? The sound of insects surrounding me was suddenly overwhelming, seeming to grow louder as I stood silently wondering what to do. I noticed a dark figure moving below and screamed as I saw a black diamond rattlesnake moving inches from my feet.

I doubled back very quickly and started running up the path when I caught a glimpse of a figure moving at the end of the path far ahead. It looked like a woman, and she seemed to be wearing a long white robe or dress which fell to her ankles. As I continued running up the path and the woman became clearer in my vision, I was relieved to see she was quite a small lady, pretty harmless looking. But when I was halfway up the track she disappeared suddenly, as if yanked by an external force back around the turn in the path. When I finally reached the bend, she wasn't in sight.

I wanted to stop and wonder what the hell was going on, but as I carried on the hospital finally came into view. There it was: Nature's Cross Medical Centre, looking not unlike an aristocrat's residence, withdrawn as it was behind high metal gates and uncontrolled vegetation which had been left to grow into the forest around it for at least three years. I looked and could see no sign, but somehow I was certain this was it. The gate was closed, but swung open easily as I pushed it, whining against the hinges and announcing my arrival. I moved up the courtyard to the metal, windowed front door, which was the first indication that this was a medical facility and not a home. I put my hand to the door handle, half expecting it not to open as I turned it, but relieved when it did.

At first, the main corridor of the building looked nothing like any hospital I'd ever seen. Instead of clean white walkways, the already narrow space was littered with chairs and desks. They were pushed against the walls in a way which suggested they were there to make room somewhere else rather than be of any use where they stood.

"Hello?"  
I called out, listening for a moment to see if anyone responded. The corridor was dim, lit only by the light streaming in from the small windows lining the top of the wall. I moved down the corridor, past a staircase and an elevator, to a door at the end of the hall marked "_Reception Office_". I opened the door, stepping inside to find another room cluttered with surplus furniture. The parts of the floor not covered with tables or chairs was instead spread with a layer of papers, mainly medical notes from what I could see. I moved awkwardly around the mess to the only other door in the room. The next room was almost as messy, medicine trolleys and shelves of bottles filling the space. It looked like a pharmacy, many of the pill cases and jars previously smashed, their contents long since evaporated.

Something caught my eye, and I went to the desk opposite the door. I saw a stack of papers in a conspicuously neat pile amongst the other notes that had been thrown around. I picked up the binded stack at the top of the pile, which was labelled "_Clinical reports_". The pages initially seemed completely senseless to someone not trained in medicine, the figures and notes printed in the cold Courier type. But when I started reading, the very first words made me blink in disbelief.

"1/10

Test subject: Doug Frost

Age: 68

Admission date: 3/14/98

Attending physician: Alan Erdot"

"_Test subject?"_

I kept reading.

"2/10

3/14

22:00 Administered T-JCCC203

08:30 Cancerous cells discovered.

3/15

17:00 Cancerous cells destroyed.

3/10

3/16

08:30 Condition normal

Normal appetite

17:00 intense appetite

3/17

23:00 Sudden change in status

4/10

3/18

01:17 Patient pronounced dead."

"_Cancerous cells _destroyed?"

Unbelievable. Whatever T-JCCC203 was, it had apparently cured Mr Frost of cancer, before killing him a few days later. At least the document had referred to him as a 'patient' at the end. I looked around, suddenly remembering where I was and wanting very desperately to leave. The document was extraordinary. I quickly flicked through the pages, seeing similar reports with similar results. Samuel Baker, Dorothy Lester, Robert Allen…These people, all cancer patients, had been experimented on with the same drug. They'd all been cured, but none of them had lasted longer than a few days after that. That hadn't, however, stopped whoever it was that ran this place from continuing to allow experiments on these patients over a period of months.

I turned around, gripping the documents to my chest and slowly opening the door back into the reception room. I knew there was probably more material lying around that would make for very interesting reading, but what I already had was enough to warrant a massive search that would send every investigation agency between here and Washington running to the place like sharks who've sniffed blood. I moved slowly around the furniture, watching each movement to make sure I didn't knock anything or make any unnecessary noise. I looked to the end of the room where the windows were, but saw they were all barred. With a deep breath, I opened the door back into the hall and saw Al standing right in front of me.

He'd taken his shirt off and was holding a large woodcutting axe and a black piece of material. I stared down at him, his face still holding an unmoving smile that was somehow withdrawn, like he was looking at an animal. His gaze moved down to my chest, where I was still holding the papers, and then he dropped everything in his hands and in an instant they were at my throat.

I staggered back, his hands still attached to me, into the reception room. Crashing against a table, he pushed down harder and stars began dancing around his moon-like face.

"Stop fighting," he said.

I pushed against him and somehow found myself on my knees, his hands still squeezing.

"I don't want to kill you," he said.

He could have fooled me. He let go just as my vision started bordering black, and then before I could gasp for breath he kicked me in the head.

* * *

As I opened my eyes, pain hit me in two places. A sharp jolt hit me in the head, making me cry out with what voice I had left. I felt another, duller pain all up the side of my body, where I had been lying awkwardly between the floor and the wall.

I looked up at my hand, somehow suspended above me. It was handcuffed to a radiator pipe. Not taking my eyes from my trapped hand, I slipped myself up into a sitting position. I looked up, the haze in my mind slowly lifting as I was reminded where I was. The radiator I was attached to stood next to a hospital gurney, and aged medical posters with smiling models dressed as doctors stared down at me from the dimly lit walls. My heart stopped as I turned to my left and saw what was in the room with me.

Not a metre from my legs, the ground had been smashed so severely that a section of the floor had cracked open and now hung at a forty-five degree angle to the room below. I tried to move across the floor to get a closer look, but my binded hand pulled me back cruelly, and I quickly gave up, slouching back against the wall and wincing again as a fresh jolt of pain rocked my head. I closed my eyes, my initial haziness giving way to frustration as I stared down at the handcuffs connecting me to the pipe. I pulled at it, desperately hoping it would break if I tugged hard enough. When it seemed obvious it wasn't going to budge, I started to scream.

"Where are you?" I cried.

My throat felt like it was tearing as I called out.

"What are you doing here?"

I didn't realise how laughable my words sounded, chained as I was, kicking and screaming on the filthy floor. As I thrashed around, I felt a new movement, and looked to see that I'd started to pull the pipe from the wall.

My head swung up as the door opened. In front of me was a figure, bleach white and kicking its legs even more wildly than I had been. He was young, maybe in his late teens, but he looked terrible. Wrapped around his arms and torso were another thick pair of arms, holding the man from behind with what seemed like impossible strength given the force the teenager seemed to be using to try and wrestle free.

"This one's yours, but the rest are Dorothy's," came a familiar voice.

The arms let go and I quickly saw a masked face disappear as the door slammed shut.

The man moved towards me without hesitation, his eyes fixed on me with a disturbingly barren look that until then I could only stare at in dread. As the pale man approached me I snapped my right leg at him in a single movement which knocked him onto his front, right on top of me. I didn't even have the luxury of him stopping to collect himself for a moment, as he bit at me with his teeth, spit and fetid breath escaping his snapping jaws. He stupidly dug his mouth into my chest, trying to bite through the thick denim material. The weight and absolute ferocity of his movements were so frightening I barely understand how I managed to move at all. But as I found out many times in the next few years, my survival instinct seems to be stronger than average.

I pushed the man's head away with my one free hand and I rolled in another quick movement which sent him tumbling off me and stopping close to the chasm in the floor. He stood up again and turned his head in a horrific jolting movement which looked like he was under a strobe light. As he went for me again I gave what felt like the last kick I could muster, which was enough to send him falling back the hole.

I heard a moan, although I couldn't see him now. Totally exhausted, I literally whelped, unable to believe what was happening to me. I wanted to start crying but stopped and looked as the moan continued and seemed to grow louder. The little cannibal hadn't fallen through - he was climbing up the ramp where the floor had broken off. I took a deep breath and pulled again with my binded hand, feeling the seemingly impossible resistance of the wall pull me back again. I put my feet against the wall, grabbing at the chain of the handcuffs with my free hand, and I pulled again, and again, and kept pulling with such physical energy I felt like I was bathing in lactic acid.

After a dozen tugs, the pipe started loosening again, and I looked back to see a hand appear at the lowest point in the hole I could see. I continued pulling like a madwoman, and the pain of the effort became so I great I started wondering if it would be easier to chew through my arm to free myself. The final pull surprised me as the final length of the pipe came from the wall, leaving a large enough gap to slide the handcuffs through. Were it not for the adrenaline running circuits round my bloodstream, I could have fallen asleep right then and there. Instead I stood, the handcuffs still attached to my left arm, and ran for the door without looking back.

Mercifully, Al hadn't locked it, obviously not expecting me to escape from his callously unfair trap. I slammed the door shut behind me and looked around to see if I was alone. Apparently I was. I found myself in a corridor I didn't recognise, although it was just as disorderly as the other rooms I had seen, medical trolleys and metal furniture strewn up the length of the hall. I moved to the left, reaching the end of the short corridor to find a set of stairs leading down. I raced down the steps to a landing, then turned to rush down the next flight leading to the entrance corridor. I have to admit I wasn't even thinking of Kurt before I lurched for the door, and I opened it to the hot but welcoming air outside. It was still light, and the sun was directly above me, so I guessed I hadn't been unconscious for very long. I was about to step outside when I heard a piercing scream that froze me in my tracks.

It recognised whose scream it was – it's funny how we can detect voices in a cough or a shout. I admit I hesitated, the sunlit path to freedom stretching in front of me. Despite my instincts I turned around and headed back into the building.

The scream continued, and it must have been seriously loud because I could hear it despite the fact that it seemed to be coming from somewhere below me. I looked both ways, deciding not to head to the reception area or back up the stairs and instead making my way to the other end of the hall. I found a single door around the corner, and opened it to enter the hospital's auxiliary building. This corridor was even darker than the previous one, lit only by the light streaming in from the hall behind me. I followed the short passage up and around another bend to a set of stairs leading down into complete darkness. The screams continued.

I don't remember being so frightened even during the ordeals I faced in the outbreak two years later. The memory of the strange and terrifying man who had tried to eat me alive was still fresh in my mind, and I could only imagine that something similar had befallen the one I had come to rescue. I may not be the most altruistic of women but I think I proved to myself that day that I'll do anything for someone in a pinch.

Fighting my selfish side, I headed downstairs, taking each step carefully in the darkness but also trying to rush given the pain Kurt sounded like he was in. His shrieking voice led me easily despite the lack of light in the passage, and when I had taken a few steps at the bottom of the stairs the screams began fading into irregular moans, the sudden drop in intensity no doubt reflecting his weakening state. Luckily I didn't have to walk far before the wall fell back a few inches into a recess which I recognised as a door. I slid my hand down to the handle and turned it.

Light shot through to the wall behind me and illuminated the corridor, the massive hole in the ceiling allowing the sunlight from the room above to fill the area. The room was similar to the ward above it, but unlike all the other rooms was very neatly arranged. A single bed stood next to hospital machinery, familiar machines with monitors and wires. The only strange feature was the half-collapsed ceiling dipping down into the room, and the figures lying on the floor…

"Alyssa…"

Kurt reached out his hand, his face not quite resigned despite how close to death he obviously was. His face was contorted, his eyes dull and his body moving up and down as a robed woman buried her face in a huge red patch of blood on his chest.

"Oh, oh…" I wept uselessly, my hand fighting to keep its grip on the door handle as I stood shaking.

The woman stopped eating and turned around, staring at me with departed eyes which showed nothing but anger, and, if I'm not mistaken, confusion. She looked even worse than the man upstairs, the skin hanging to her face like a loose curtain and what remained of her wiry hair pulled back tightly. I kept staring, afraid that any movement would provoke her to move, and we stared at each other for a moment before she stood up and began charging towards me.

My hand still on the knob, I pulled the door shut just as she reached it, holding it firmly as she battered her hands and screamed in a furious and inhuman voice. After a few seconds she stopped, apparently having given up. I let my eyes close for a second as I thought what to do, and then jumped back as the banging started again, slower now, but still persistent.

I shot back to the door and put my head against it.

"Kurt?"

After a pause he called out.

"Yeah."

His voice sounded laboured. The banging continued, the woman apparently more interested in me now than she was in him.

"I'm gonna head back up and come to you from above. Just hold on!"

I moved back from the door and heard a faint, "No."

I put my head against the door again, trying to hear past the steady slamming.

"What?" I called out.

"I'm dying," he said.

"Shut up, Kurt. I'll be right back."

"No…"

There was another long pause.

"Kurt?"  
"I'm bleeding out, here. No doctors left."

I think I heard him laugh, but it could have been a cough.

"Did you find the evidence?" he asked.

I closed my eyes again, this time in frustration.

"I did, but that guy took it," I replied.

Kurt didn't reply for a moment, apparently taking this in.

"Then get out," he said. "Tell everyone what happened, send the police."

"I'm not going," I said.

As soon as I spoke I knew I was wrong. The other cannibal was waiting for me upstairs, and if I opened this door again the crazy bag would devour me like she had Kurt, and the truth would die with both of us.

"Maybe she'll leave you alone now," I said.

I definitely heard Kurt laugh this time.

"She seems to like you more," he said.

I honestly didn't know what to say. It's rare we have the opportunity to choose our last words to someone, but even when the chance arises we rarely say the right thing.

"Is the research on your home computer?" I asked.

"No…" Kurt said. "Ugh…"  
"Kurt?"

"Everything's on paper. It's in an envelope under my bedroom dresser."

I was crying soundlessly, and I was really thankful Kurt couldn't see me then.

"Everyone will know the truth," I said.

"Yep…" Kurt said sharply. "Now get out of here!"

After a second I hit the door, angry at the situation and completely frustrated at not being able to do a thing about it. I stepped away and rushed back to the staircase, jumping each step three at a time to force any second thoughts from my mind. I ran down the short corridor to a T-intersection and stopped before the corner, needing a second to find my bearings and remember the way out. My senses were playing tag in my brain, and for the final time I considered trying to help Kurt in some way. Leaving now felt like a betrayal and a failure. But I knew that I had a responsibility to share what I had found, to let the world know what had happened here and to warn them of the dangerous creatures I had seen. I stepped around the corner to find Al in the open doorway.

No hesitation this time, he ran at me full force with his giant axe. I was quick, too, my senses snapping back to survival instinct as I swung right and tore down towards the opposite end of the hall. I yanked the handle of the first door I passed and didn't have time to be thankful it had swung open. I slammed it behind me and threw down the medical trolley standing next to it. I knew it wouldn't do much but it could buy me a moment to get the advantage. I raced to the other side of the room to a door with a barred window frame, behind which I could see the dark green of the forest outside. With some effort I opened the heavy metal door and pulled it closed behind me, continuing full speed up the path ahead as I heard the screech of the first door pushing against the collapsed trolley behind me.

The colours of the forest seemed to blur into a dripping watercolour as I continued down the path. My heart was beating faster than I thought possible, and my legs pumped below me despite the lack of oxygen flowing through my body. I felt light-headed, but I kept running without turning back. As I reached a crossroads I turned left without hesitating and just as I felt like my heart was going to explode I blacked out and fell rolling into the bushes by the path.

* * *

When I opened my eyes I could barely see the sky through the tangle of branches I had fallen in. I lay for a minute, wondering what strange dream I had entered, and slowly my senses fell back into place. I groaned at the pain of the brambles sticking into my bare legs, and with considerable effort I managed to untangle myself and stand up. I looked around.

"_Where the hell am I?_"

The lasting pain told me I wasn't dreaming. This was real.

"_The Arklay forest?_"

How could I have ended up here, I wondered. My house was in the suburbs, many miles from even the perimeter of the forest.

"_Whose jacket is this?_"

Yet here I was, in the thick of the woods wearing someone else's clothes. And handcuffs.

"_Did I come here with someone?_"

The jacket was a woman's. Had a friend lent it to me? A lover?

"_Where was I last night…? Did someone spike my drink?_"

I tried to focus my mind on the pain. My legs stand but my groin didn't hurt, thankfully.

I stepped out of the bushes and looked up and down the path.

XxXxXxX

It took me four hours to find my way back to the lake. In even normal circumstances the walk would have been gruelling, but added to that I had no idea how I'd got to the middle of the woods and I had little means of finding the right way back. Eventually I heard the noise of the water in the ravine, and had managed to track the path downhill to the lake. As I followed the path I spotted a familiar object.

"_No, that can't be…_"

My car. So I'd come here by choice? I felt my pockets and took the only object I was carrying, my keys. I got in the car and sat for a moment, wondering where to go. I finally started the ignition and turned the car around to head back to town.

At the edge of the northern suburbs was Raccoon Hospital. I felt like an idiot as I approached the front door but I knew I had to be pragmatic and get myself checked out. I didn't know how I was going to explain the handcuffs. If the police were after me for some reason I might as well find out why. The waiting room was almost empty and the receptionist looked relaxed as she greeted me.

"What can I do for you today, ma'am?"

In my mind, I double checked what I had calculated on my walk down from the forest.

"I can't remember the last forty-eight hours," I said.


End file.
